


The untouchables

by Proxy_17



Series: Cosa Nostra Rats [1]
Category: Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/F, F/M, Gen, Italian Character(s), Italian Mafia, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proxy_17/pseuds/Proxy_17
Summary: King's Dominion was already hell but when the Italian Mafia sends their children, Marcus thinks it's just another stupid clique to get on his damn nerve.Is it too much to ask to just live and kill for a grade while trying to balance his 'not-friend' boner for a certain mohawked punk rocker with blue eyes.Apparently that answer is yes.Especially when those same newbies are the same Mafia that Billy belongs to.So can Marcus float to their expectations or is it all going to go to shit before he can figure out if the sight of his friend sleeping next to him makes him honestly horny or is that just morning wood?





	The untouchables

**Author's Note:**

> *Italics* = is the translation, only Billy and Petra can understand them.
> 
> Enjoy.

LOCATION:

King's Dominion Atelier of the Deadly Arts

It's 1987.

Andy Warhol finally went to the hospital -- albeit in a body bag -- Robo Cop has just premiered, Prozac is bigger than cookie crisps, and Ronald Reagan is still breathing.

So pretty much everything is still shit. 

Especially school.

It's your run of the mill drama; blonde prom queens, muscles jocks, pleated pants preps, DnD playing nerds, and me and my friends: the rejects or as we're called, the _ Rats _.

Except for the fact that the cheerleaders practice dismemberment, the head jock is the son of Joseph Stalin's top assassin, and the DnD players specialize is nerve destroying toxins and marijuana cultivation. 

So that's a plus, at least.

As for me? I'm a nobody. 

An orphan by Ronald Reagan's choices, a murder by situation -- unless it's for a grade -- and a devoted pot head whose friends are just as fucked up.

Lex, the first and best example, is a first class fuck up, third class rock star from the UK who I once saw beat one of our classmates with a giant red dildo.

Then there was our resident goth extraordinaire, Petra, who belonged to a family of death cultists and had at one point in her childhood found her mother's eyes in a mason jar in the fridge. 

Talk about an eye-opener for Daddy's little girl. 

Regardless, she was dumped here just like the rest of us. 

Especially Billy.

There wasn't a person I related to more. 

His father was an abusive dick -- was, because he's dead -- and enjoyed beating the blue eyed teen and his little brother till the sun came up and stomping his mom into the ground just cause it set. 

He was smaller than his dad, physically and anger wise, but that didn't stop him from jumping in to help his mom. 

Didn't stop him from getting back up when his eye was swollen shut and his ribs cracked a little more every time he took a breath. 

Didn't stop him from trying his best to keep his family alive and make whatever mob his dad owed money to, from shooting up the house with the last blood he had.

I knew what that felt like. 

That need to help, to do something right, to become anything and work damn hard not to lose yourself in the process. 

He was the closest thing to good that King's Dominion would ever come to, despite the propaganda that our teachers fed us.

Speaking of--

"Hey," I tapped the table to get Petra's -- who'd busied herself with her toxicology reading -- attention and though she didn't look up, I knew she was listening so I continued anyway. "Do you know where Billy is?" 

"Did you check the roof?" 

"Don't know why yew're askin' _ black death _ here, yew know she can't see anythin' through all that paint she drowns her mug in." Lex snickered, Petra rolled her eyes and I sighed heavily. 

"Fine," Petra slammed her book close and turned to him with a quirked brow and a grimace. " Do _ you _ know where he is? 

"As ah mat'er of fact I do, Count Bitchula." he smirked smugly. 

"So where--"

"That was weak," she commented in a monotone drone. "You used that one yesterday."

"An' yew used that makeup yesterday."

"Lex--"

"That's what makeup is for, idiot," she rolled her eyes and turned the page of her book. "It's a daily applications. Unlike your names; what, no new material?" 

"Piss off!"

"LEX!?" I snapped my fingers in his face and finally got his hardened glare and flaring nostrils.

His bitterness making his 'Wot!?' coming out even thicker in his cockney.

"Where's Billy?" 

"Bloke's ovah there," he jutted his chin forward and sure enough I turned just in time to see him barrel into a kid at least an inch bigger than Viktor and twice as wide. "Fuckin aye' that's a biggin'."

But I'm no longer listening to him, instead I'm moving through the gathering crowd that had began to circle them and the scene I'm shoved into is looking as bad as it gets. 

Billy's standing there, looking up at the guy like the mountain he is, their trays of food are discarded on the floor and there's a bright red stain on the front of the other guys shirt that looks suspiciously like a juice stain. 

The guy cracked his knuckles and advances on Billy; he's going to hit him and with the size of him, my friend wasn't walking away with just a few scratches and a broken arm. 

I'm not sure he'd walk away at all. 

"If you hit him," I growled, stepping in front. "You're gonna have to hit me too."

"Marcus wait--"

"You're not handling this guy alone," I placed a hand on his shoulder before turning back to the guy. "Wouldn't be my first time knocking someone out who deserved it." 

"Oh yeah, pretty boy?" The guy scoffs and squares his shoulders. "You must not've heard my knuckles cracking. But you will."

And this could get me expelled; fighting on school turf when it wasn't a class was punishable by death. 

But who cares? 

Certainly not me.

So I rushed at him, well tried to, anyway, but what Billy didn't have in strengths he always made up for in speed and intellect. 

If only the latter had kicked in before the first one because the moment I'm within reach the other guy throws a punch that catches Billy so hard he's sent skidding.

But not before he shouts the words, "NINO WAIT!" 

From there it's like a record scratching, something clicks in the other guy's eyes and he rushes over to the green haired punk rocker; eyebrows knit and hands hovering without direction, though I get to him first. 

"FUCKIN' SHIT," The guy -- Nino, I'm guessing -- sucks in a breath and pulls Billy to his feet. "Billy the Kid Bennett? Is that really you?"

"Despite the forming black eye, it's me," He smiles through the pain as he clutches his face. "In the flesh."

And I'm left there, rooted in my place, staring at the strangest happenings in King's Domain like everyone else in the room. 

"Fuck, if that ain't a shinah." Nino runs a hand through his dark hair. "Ilna's gonna carve me when she sees that."

"Lucky for you the meeting isn't for another month." Billy gives him a comforting pat on his shoulder. "And this'll be healed by then."

"Unlucky for me," The other countered with a face akin to that of a kid who knew they'd get in trouble when they'd get home from school. "She's here."

Billy blanches. 

"What?" His voice is barely above a whisper and I have to strain to hear. "Ilna's here? Like, here-here as in King's Dominion?"

"Is Ilna 'the mad queen' Bonanno somewhere that'll make her father proud? Really, kid?" Nino shakes his head. "Besides, you ever seen one of us without the others?"

"Nope," he groans before smiling. "I'm dead, we're dead. Everyone in this room is dead!"

"Calm down, Kid, if anyone is gonna survive it's gonna be you," but this only makes the punk rocker pale even more. "Besides, she can smell fear."

"Nino," he groans again and drags a hand down his face. "Not funny."

"Not funny."

"Yeah, sorry." He scratched the back of his neck before he picks up their selective trays off of the floor. 

"You don't have to do that, you know." Billy tries but the look he gets is murderous. "Sorry, sorry, go ahead." 

And he does, he cleans up the mess with the efficiency of a skilled custodian while Billy grabs me by the arm and leads me back to the table where the other Rats are as equally confused as me. 

At least the cafeteria has gone back to moderate to suspicious whispering though I hardly doubt it would be about anything other than what just happened. 

"So I bet you all have questions, huh?" 

"Yew get knocked down by ah fuckin' truck sized bloke before he practically kisses your arse like yew're Queenie," lex, ever the colorful supplied in me and Petra's silence. "FUCKIN' YES WE AVE' QUESTIONS, YOU BLOODY WANKER!"

"What our communication deficient friend is trying to say is, who's the mountain man?" Petra supplied, her book closed and her interest piqued. 

"Yew tryin' tah fuck em' too?" Lex snickered, earning himself a well earned glare from the gothic.

"He's apart of the commission," Billy answers, unfazed by Lex's comment. "They're the head of all Italian mobs in America and Canada."

"And what's that got to do with you?" Tired of listening I finally speak up before leaning in and lowering my voice. "Does this have to do with our dad?"

"Sort of…" he rubs his nape gingerly, blue eyes avoiding my own. "It's complicated."

"Not really." 

We jump practically out of our skins as a tray is slammed into the table, two teens -- a guy and girl -- sliding into the seat next to me, along with Nino.

But it wasn't just them; there was another girl with a scar running from the left corner of her top lip to her smile line, and a guy with disturbingly pale blue eyes. 

"Nino wasn't lying when he said he'd done you in," the girl who'd sat with the identical looking boy had instead draped herself around Billy's shoulders. 

Her bright red lips in a pout as she gripped his chin and frowned at his eye. "Ilna's gonna carve you a good one, Amico." Her identical grimaced as he gave a low whistle.

"The hell were you doing swinging on em' anyway?" Scarface turned to the mountain who sighed heavily.

"Come on, NaNa."

"Fives, really it's--"

"You finish that and San Francisco will see it's first barrel murder." She whips towards Billy and he shrinks back immediately before the girl -- fives -- turns back to Nino. "And don't _ come on NaNa _, me," she scoffed. "You ain't supposed to be fighting anyway!" 

"He jumped in the way!" 

"Of what!?"

"Him!" Nino jabs a finger at me and it takes them a second to realize that it's not just them at the table. 

"Oh shit, you mean these guys matter?" The identical girl blinked owlishly. "Kid, why you didn't say nothing?"

"How could he?" Pale eyes questioned with a present amount of sass. "Between Anastasia's yelling and your sudden transformation into a neck warmer, when was he gonna have that chance?" 

"You gonna read me my rights too, Brio?" 

"Like you don't know em' by heart." 

"Vittorio!" She leans over and swats her snickering other half. "You ain't gon help me?" 

"Why?" He asked between chuckles. "You can handle yourself; it's just Brio."

"Excuse me?" Was said simultaneously and with equal venom. 

"Look, you two are already getting along."

"You ain't shit." She rolled her eyes and snuggled against Billy. 

"Correction, dear sister," he holds up a single finger. "I am _ the _ shit." 

"We're getting side tracked," Fives -- or was it Anastasia? -- snapped as I had done earlier and though it took a minute longer than necessary, they did get quiet. 

Then suddenly the attention is back on me and it feels like I've just been caught by the police.

"I'm Anastasia Genovese," I shake her hand awkwardly. "You've met Nino--"

"Sorry bout' almost decking you."

"Uh, no problem."

"This is Vittorio 'Cards' and Vittoria 'Saint' Gambino."

"You can call me Vitt and her Vitti." Vittorio winked and his sister blew a kiss that -- and I'm not gonna lie -- made me blush a tad bit harder than when I'd been with Saya that first night. 

"Smettila, Sporcacciona." Vitt scrunches up his nose and his sister chuckles. *_ Stop, dirty girl _.*

"Ma è carino!" She pouts and her brother rolls his eyes. *_ But he's cute!* _

"Troia." *_ Slut.* _He whispers and her eyes go as wide as Billy's before she hops up and shoves at Vittorio's shoulder; her lips still slightly upturned. 

"Anche tu." *_ You too.* _ she counters and as I turn to Billy he gives me a thumbs up and an awkward smile. "Good things, I swear." 

"Okay." I blink several times before turning back to Ana who was punching the bridge of her nose. "Uh... Anastasia?" 

"Eh?" She blinked out of her aggravation and huffed. "Sorry, where was I?" 

"Introductions."

"Ah," she clapped her hands together and smiled. "This is Brio 'the nose' Tocco."

"I wished you wouldn't tell people that name." Brio yawned. "It's stupid."

"Hey, my Papa gave you that name," she narrowed her eyes. "And it's not stupid; it means you're smart."

"What does that have to do with my nose, though?" 

"Well…because you're nosey."

"How!?" His voice squeaks. 

"You got the FBI to raid your neighbor's house just to see what she had."

"She could've been an informant!" 

"She was sixty-eight, Brio!" 

"My Nonna is older than her and she's money laundering and running Chicago's biggest prostitution ring."

"We're the _ mob _ , Brio!" She moaned, stressing the word mob. "Ms.Moretti owned a _ pet shop _!"

"And was wanted for tax evasion and identity theft," he pointed out. "For all we know there never _ was _ a Ms.Moretti."

"Cristo Santo, Brio!" She face palmed.

"It's true though!" 

"So, this is everybody?" Petra quirked a brow but only got a snort from Brio. "Did I say something funny?" 

"No, it's just," he snorts again. "You're going to wish that it was just us." 

"Wot, the rest of yew spaghetti eaters that bad?" 

I paled, Billy paled, Petra stiffened and even Lex wasn't too sure if he had just signed his death certificate. 

So we waited; waited for them to kill us or waited for them to laugh, and thankfully, they chose the second one. 

"Mekhi is gonna love you!" 

"Or Ilna's gonna kill him." Brio rolled his eyes and took a sip of his juice. "This tastes like alcohol." He takes another sip. "I'm almost certain this is vodka, that or I'm being poisoned and this _ is _ King's Dominion."

"When in Rome I guess." Vitt smirked and took Brio's drink before downing it and making a face. "That is most definitely vodka."

"And here all I got was chocolate milk." Vitti poured her milk in her potatoes. 

"And there comes the unholy trinity itself." Ana beamed before leaning down to Nino. "I'll put something nice on your grave."

"Buonasera, miei cari amici!" The owner of the baritone is tall, lean, and with a head full of dark blonde hair that went to his shoulders in a tousled mass of curls. *_ Greetings, my hoes and bros!* _

I didn't know Italians could be blonde.

"They can if their mama is." He answered and my eyes widened slightly. "You said it out loud."

"Shit, I'm sorry man," I chuckled nervously as a dark skinned -- dark by olive standards -- female watched me closely. "Im Marcus."

His grip is firm as he shakes my hand. "Ottelo Lucchese," he grins. "But my friends call me lucky." 

"Well are yew?"

"What?" We turned to Lex. 

"Are yew lucky?"

"Who's Oliver Twist?" A smaller girl with Cher red hair asked as she sat on the edge of the table and quirked an eyebrow. 

"Am guessing you're Mickey Mouse?" 

She narrows her eyes. "Mek-hi," she corrected. "Mekhi 'Red' Maggaddino. Can you pronounce any of that, Big Ben? Or is that too hard?"

"No arder' than yew makin' it tah yah Gran mum's house with the cookies." He's standing and slowly their faces are coming closer despite Red being shorter. 

"Lex." I shake my head, but of course I'm ignored. 

"Well?" He cocks his head. "How's the big bad wolf this year round?"

"Warm," she shrugs. "But what do you expect from a coat?" 

His pierced tongue snakes out over his lips and he smirked down at Red. "I hate yew alot less than I thought I would."

"Can't say the same," their banter is borderline flirtation. "I didn't know you were gonna be here from Adam or Eve...but I guess you really _ stir _ my tea."

And as lame as that is, Lex chuckles a the same before sitting back down. "I can stir a lot more than just your tea, love."

"Bold." 

"I could be bolder." 

"Or dead." The dark skinned girl from before spits as she adjusts her finely pressed suit -- why did she have a suit? -- venom lacing her tone and I watch as Billy practically shrinks in on himself.

"An' who do yew think yew are?" Lex grimaces. 

"Lex, stop." Billy growls. "Now."

"No, let him continue," the country twang makes me want to gag and as we turn to see Brandy Lynn's poison sweet smile. "I, like the rest of the cafeteria, was wondering if we'd just gotten an _ infestation _ . You know _ rats _ do bring the black plague."

"Ehi, possiamo uccidere questa stupida stronza?" *_ Hey, can we kill this stupid bitch?* _ Ottelo smiled and though I didn't know what he was saying, Billy and Petra froze up. 

"Regole della scuola, ricordi?" *_ School rules, remember?* _ The girl answers without looking away from Brandy, her own cheshire smile present.

"Ma il suo culo e ' a portata di mano." Vitti snorted. *_ But her ass is free range off the grounds.* _

"Come vuoi farlo?" Vitt cooed to his sister who had once again moved and was currently sitting in his lap. *_ How do you want to do that?* _

"Apache Indian job." Brio says likes he's talking about the weather. 

"Troppo civile," *_ Too civil* _ Nino spits out with a cold venom. "Omicidio A botte." * _ Barrel murder.* _

"I like that one." Red nods and high fives the mountain. 

"Una bara di cemento?" Ana tried and the girl scoffs good naturedly before turning back to Brandy. *_ A concrete coffin?* _

"What?" Brandy laughs fakely; the fact that they'd switched languages upon her arrival pissing her off. "What are they talking about?" I shrugged.

"Wish I could tell you," she shrugs innocently and Brandy's eye twitches. "But uh, quick question," she steps closer. "Is he a rat?" She points to Billy who instinctively covers his bruised eye.

"He's not the dirtiest, but he is one of them." There's a pride in Brandy's voice that makes the other Rats tense; last time a legacy was at our table, we'd found _ actual _ rats in our food.

Billy drops his head in defeat and, for a moment, I'm confused as the girl looks back at us smiling a toothy grin. 

Meanwhile, the twins had dumped their trays onto -- a very confused -- Brio's plate before stacking them and sliding them down to the end of the table.

What was going on?

And that's when it happened.

The headbutt came out of nowhere, the upper cut swing from the trays even more out of the ballpark. Regardless, Brandy Lynn still dropped to the ground with a broken nose and quickly bruising chin, rolling and practically screaming.

Automatically, the Dixie Mob were on their feet but so was the Commission and Brandy was on the rats side of the cafeteria and with the newcomers practically confiscating our area, it had become no man's land real quick.

The girl stepped on Brandy's hair to keep her in place as she crouched down and looked at the girl with the same intent a child would at a defenseless dragonfly; more than ready to rip the wings off like petals in a game of 'he loves me, he loves me not'.

"This is a school, so it's natural to have a hierarchy," she nods in understanding, her accent thick and clipped. "But that boy ovah there ain't a rat, digs? He's the commission's _ Amico _ , my _ pledge _. And you can't compete with what you can't compare to." 

She reached up and took hold of the milk that Ana passed to her with a smirk; pouring it out on the blonde's face like she was making cereal, standing to watch it's creamy waterfall drown the Dixie in a sputtering mess.

"The name's Ilna, daughter of Don Ranieri Bonanno; the capo de tutti capi of New York." 

"What the fuck does that mean?" Even down and looking a little more like a drowned cat than a southern belle, the Neo-Nazi was still all bite. 

"Means my Papa is the boss of all bosses," Ilna's smile stretched wide, cruel, her foot turning and twisting purposely painful in the girl's hair. "That's why they call me Queenie, and see, I'd tell you to bow but," and she scoffs. "You're already at my feet." 

She kicks her in the face harder than I've ever seen anyone be kicked before and when Brandy pulls herself up -- leaking red everywhere -- Ilna takes a fist full of blonde hair, wraps it around her fist and drags the girl's body to the top of the table with her; holding it out like a priest would a cross to a demon.

"Let it be known now," her voice is loud -- I'm pretty sure her only volumes are loud and louder anyway -- precise despite the accent and what she proclaims could make or break us all.

"The rats are under the commission protection," the whole room is listening. "So If you fuck with them, you bettah be prepared to fuck with every Cosa Nostra this side of the Northern Hemisphere."

She let Brandy's body fall to the top of the table before kicking her off, the girl making a painful thud as she hit the floor. 

"Ilna, I didn't want a war!" Billy pleaded in a whisper as the girl stepped down with the help of Nino who she only cut her eyes at slightly.

So he was still on thin ice.

She pats the punk rocker's shoulder with a gentle smile. "You may not be interested in war but war is interested in you."

And for the first time in all my eighteen years of existing, I had sympathy for the Devil because when that girl died, and it was inevitable for us all, especially in King's Dominion, she was going to own him and take the throne.


End file.
